


Darkness in Woodbury

by orphan_account



Series: The Walking Dead: Wildfire [1]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Action, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Boys In Love, Deviates From Canon, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, Falling In Love, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Humor, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kidnapping, Kissing, M/M, Male Slash, Mild Gore, Rape Recovery, Resuce, Rimming, Scars, Season 3, Slow Build, Teen Angst, Tension, The Prison, Woodbury, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-15
Updated: 2015-04-14
Packaged: 2018-03-22 20:17:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3742279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Carl was the one that was kidnapped and taken to Woodbury? What if Rick is going to need some help to get him out? And what does the appearance of a mysterious young man during all of this mean for the Prison group as they rush to save one of their own? Carl Grimes is faced with the most horrific event of his young life to date, but as the old saying goes, there is a silver-lining to every tale. Carl's just got to find his.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Darkness in Woodbury

**Author's Note:**

> For the purposes of this story, Carl has been aged up from 12-13 (this is set back in Season 3) to about 16ish.

The world was quiet.

It had been like that for awhile now. The overbearing Georgia sun would hang in the sky for twelve hours before setting and not a damn thing would have made a noise. Oliver Cromwell was beginning to find out that he didn't quite mind the silence. The world used to be so noisy.  _Too_ damn noisy. The silence was a nice change of pace, or so he told himself. Today, he found himself plundering the remains of an old shopping mall. Working alone had its advantages. Large numbers tended to draw the dead like a magnet, but alone he could slip in and out without being detected. It also ( _usually_ ) meant that food and water lasted a lot longer. Without other mouths to feed, supplies tended to last weeks instead of days. That is, when supplies could be found. Today wasn't to be such a day. This was the third location Oliver had searched all month and nothing had come up. Nothing at all. 

_Well,_ he told himself.  _No use staying if there isn't anything here._

Gathering his gear, Oliver pushed on out of the shopping mall. It was mid-day and the sun was beating down on his back relentlessly. He was almost certain there would be a sunburn there before long. The rest of his day was already planned out for him. He would walk until the sun began to set, dash off into the woods, set traps for the roamers, and then he would sleep through the night. That had been his routine for almost a year now, no use in changing it now, or so he told himself. The truth of the matter was that he was growing tired. Tired of being alone. Tired of fighting roamers day in and day out. He felt the fatigue that resulted from all of this in more than just his body. It was in his mind. It was seeping into his spirit. Eventually, he knew that one of two things would happen: the roamers would get him or he would find himself consumed by this new world and transformed into a person he didn't recognize. That was all that could result from his present routine. A routine that could never be interrupted.

That was also precisely the reason he was puzzled when an alien noise wormed its way into his otherwise silent sanctuary. It was a familiar noise--droning, almost like a car engine. And that is when he realized that it  _was_ a car engine. Instinct quickly overcame curiosity and Oliver found himself practically diving into the bushes. Sure enough, a red Chevrolet Suburban veered around the corner, heading in the same direction he had been walking. Oliver couldn't help but be mystified. It was the first time he had seen someone driving  _anything_ in longer than he could care to remember.

His eyes narrowed as the suburban came to a stop.

A scruffy man, pale, with short grey hair and the beginnings of a beard stepped out of the driver's side. Perhaps the most striking feature about the stranger was that he was missing his left hand, which now seemed to be replaced by a metal covering and a bayonet at the end. Oliver was no fool; this man was looking for trouble. The seventeen year old, hardened to the world, kept himself hidden. Anymore, it was a matter of survival, and at this point, hiding was his best option. Besides, a bayonet wasn't all the newcomer was packing. Oliver spotted the gun just as the man reached into his pocket to bring it out. 

"Come on out!" the armed man bellowed in a thick Southern accent. "I seen ya in the road! Ain't no use hidin'!"

_Damn,_ Oliver cursed to himself. He had been careless.

By assuming the silence meant an absence of people, he had allowed himself to be seen by a potential threat. Instinctively, his hand slid down to the knife holster mounted on his thigh. His butcher knife was no match for the redneck's gun, but any weapon was better than none. At once, a year of lessons--granted by surviving on the road for so long--came rushing to the forefront of the teenager's mind. His eyes took in every detail of his surroundings. The woods offered the best hiding place for him. There were no buildings to speak of nearby, save the shopping mall he had left a few miles back. Not to mention, roamers were more likely to populate old human haunts, while being more spread out in the woods. The redneck man took several measured steps towards the side of the road. There was still a safe distance between the newcomer and Oliver, but the teen prepared himself nevertheless. He raised an eyebrow as he watched the man's mannerisms. The redneck continued to glance back towards his suburban. Naturally curious, Oliver shot a look through the still-open driver's seat door.

The sight inside sent a shiver up his spine.

From his angle, he could only make out a little of what was inside, but that little told a rather  _big_ picture. In the passenger seat, with some sort of bag over their head, was another person. Oliver struggled to see more, but only succeeded in noticing just how limp the body was? Was the person dead? Unconscious? Given the redneck's caution, it was more likely that his captive was unconscious and unaware of their danger. After all, though he knew nothing about the gun-toting redneck, Oliver knew trouble when he saw it. And that man was trouble. 

Finally, as if deciding that searching for what he'd seen in the road wasn't worth leaving his victim unguarded, the redneck pocketed his gun, leaped back into the driver's seat, slammed the door behind himself, and drove off into the distance. Oliver waited until the suburban had completely vanished from sight before daring to step back onto the road. For several moments, he stood and stared in the direction the redneck had gone. Those few moments were wrought with internal conflict. His morality demanded him to follow the road and see where the man was taking that hostage. The logical side of him, however, warned that only more danger could be in that direction. Curiosity was also at play. It had been a very long time since the teenager had seen anyone alive. What if there was a community nearby? In the end, morality (and curiosity) won the game and he found himself moving in the direction the suburban had gone.

Only a slight twinge of fear warned him that his current path might lead him to more danger than he could handle...

* * *

 The afternoon wore on. 

Tinges of orange and red dyed the once-ocean blue sky as evening began to set in. Oliver had adjusted his course ever so slightly since the incident at the road. Despite his curiosity, he didn't want to be spotted by anymore dangerous rednecks. Instead, he settled for following the road within the shelter of the trees. The shade they provided him gave him relief from the super-heated sun as an added bonus. He crossed over a rather puny-looking creek and that is when he heard the rustling in the bushes. Three roamers, likely just wandering aimlessly through the trees, stumbled into sight. Among them was a former cop, what appeared to be a rotting nurse, and a more casually dressed woman with as many holes in her clothing as she had in her decaying flesh. Oliver let out an involuntary chuckle. Already this day was more interesting than all of the past week combined. First living humans and now three dead ones. The roamers snarled hungrily at him, but in the end, they were no match. He tripped the first one, stomping in its head with a blood explosion. The second one received his butcher knife through its skull, while the third found its head bashed in with a fairly thick branch the teen had found lying nearby.

_All in a day's work,_ he thought to himself.

Oliver climbed a rather steep hill towards where the roamers had come from. Through the trees, he could see more signs of civilization. Road signs were becoming more prominent and there seemed to be an abundance of human litter. He was getting close to his destination... wherever that was. On the down side, the further he traveled, the more roamers that seemed to show up. Eventually, he gave up wasting energy to fight them and simply darted through the trees, avoiding them to the best of his abilities. The first sign that roamers weren't his only problem was a resounding  _crack_ , like a wooden door being slammed shut, that echoed through the trees. The next, coming only a few minutes later, was a rather sizable group of people---that is to say,  _living_ people---running through the woods directly towards him. He no sooner had a hand on his knife than he was being held at gunpoint by a pale, scruffy, bearded man.

"I surrender." his rough voice surprised even him as he raised his hands in surrender. "I mean you no harm. You don't need to shoot me."

Oliver used the tense silence to size up what he was up against.

The bearded man had with him another redneck, this one sporting longer hair and a crossbow; a dark-skinned woman with dreadlocks and a sword; and a dark-skinned man wielding what looked like an assault rifle. Not good odds. The teen had weapons, but he knew just by the look of the other group that he couldn't take them. Not without the element of surprise, at least. Luckily for him, the bearded man didn't seem quick to want to pull his trigger. 

"This one isn't from Woodbury, Rick." the dark-skinned samurai warned in a low voice.

The bearded man, "Rick", ignored her and kept his gun level with the teenager's head. "You have a name?"

Oliver could sense urgency in the other members of the group. He supposed that if they wanted to rob him, they would have done so already. He seemed to be the least of their worries. Curiosity then reared its ugly head once again. Why was this group so tense? Why were they in such a rush? And what in the hell was Woodbury?

"I'm Oliver." he found himself replying. "You?"

"What are you doing out here?" the man called Rick asked, ignoring the teen's own question.

The teen shrugged. "Same as you, I'd reckon. Surviving. A car passed through here about an hour and a half ago. I was going to see where it went."

The other group's eyes lit up at that revelation. 

"A car?" 

"Yeah," Oliver replied, curiosity intensified. "Red and grey Chevrolet, suburban looking, and one mean driver from the looks of it."

"What did the driver look like?" this voice originated from the samurai woman, and it betrayed just how serious it was that they find the mystery asshole that he had hid from not long ago on the roadside.

"I don't know... scruffy looking, short hair, had a machete on his hand, and was waving around a gun like an idiot." the teen replied honestly. Then a thought hit him. "...You guys must be looking for the guy who was  _with_ him! The one that was in the passenger seat, right? I knew he looked kidnapped."

The man called Rick's demeanor collapsed and he lowered his gun. Now Oliver could fully sense his urgency. The bearded man's eyes had changed from anger and suspicion to unadulterated anxiety.

"You saw him?" Rick asked, voice cracking slightly.

Oliver nodded without thinking. "I mean, I didn't see much of him, but he looked unconscious. They were headed that way." He pointed through the trees and up the road. "I've been following them most of the afternoon."

"We better not waste anymore time, then." the crossbow-wielding redneck spoke up.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still for Oliver. He knew he had hit one of those cliched crossroads in his life. He could simply allow this group of people to run off into the woods and continue on their rescue mission, while he continued to waste away his life on the road, or...

"Far be it from me to offer my help to a group of strangers," he found himself saying. "but the reason I'm following that car is because---like I said---that guy looked kidnapped. If I can help in anyway, I will."

Rick's gaze suddenly hardened, "And what do you want in return?"

Oliver was taken aback by the man's sudden hostility, but it was short lived. The new world wasn't a place where good deeds were just done out of the goodness of one's heart. Everyone had a motive for everything and Oliver soon realized that he too had a motivation. A group of people meant a camp. A group of people attempting to save one of their own meant a  _loyal_ camp. Those two things were invaluable in the present day. Realizing this, the teen summoned his best look of serious business and matched Rick's gaze with his own.

"Shelter. You guys have a camp, right? Well I've spent the past ten months out here and I'm sick of it. I'll help you rescue your guy. In return, I'd like to come back with you."

Rick turned furiously back to his groupmates. That was clearly not the answer he was looking for. Oliver watched each of them closely as they exchanged glances. Interestingly enough, he found that the woman---the samurai---was the only one who did not look engaged in their little pow wow. The seconds were ticking by and each one seemed to make Rick more and more agitated. Whomever this other person was, the one they were trying to rescue, was important to him: perhaps a family member or a very close friend. Either way, the man soon made up his mind, his fierce gaze meeting the teen's own after only a moment of thought. He was nodding; that was a good sign. 

"You help me get my son back," Rick said cautiously. "And we'll talk about it."

_Guess that's the best I'm going to get,_ Oliver thought silently.

Pushing this man was probably not a good idea, especially since he had revealed that the boy in the car had been his son of all people. Now the group's urgency made sense. This wasn't just a rescue mission. This was a family matter. The teen nodded his agreement to the terms. That just meant that he needed to be at the top of his game and really impress these guys if he wanted to finally settle down somewhere safe. Rick returned his nod with one of his own, then gestured back towards the samurai woman.

"Let's go. Lead the way."

* * *

Being among other living survivors was an odd sensation for Oliver.

Ten months ago, people were a plurality. Now seeing living survivors was about as rare as seeing the Loch Ness Monster. Oliver had gleaned some important information about the group while following them on their journey. For one, Rick was the undisputed leader. That wasn't hard to figure out. The man carried himself like a leader, was unusually calm in the face of his grave predicament, not to mention the others followed his every signal without thought or argument. On the other hand, the woman Michonne was an outsider. Rick's body language, combined with hers, and the palpable tension between them were obvious indicators of this. Oliver suspected that she may have known the group no more than a day or so, though he had no way of proving his hypothesis. That also raised questions about why she was accompanying the rest of them, but the teen wasn't about to raise that issue. After all, he was an outsider too.

"The man that had my son," Rick suddenly spoke, breaking nearly an hour's worth of tense silence. "Was he hurting him?"

Rick's words caused Oliver's heart to leap into his throat. It had been a while since the teen last felt such an intense rush of emotions, but he couldn't help but feeling for Rick. Now more than ever, family was crucial. To have a young member of said family abducted, in this world? Oliver didn't even want to imagine what was going through Rick's heard right now. 

"I don't know." he replied honestly. "It didn't seem like it, but, the boy was unconscious. I can only imagine how he got that way."

Rick visibly tensed but chose not to reply. A moment passed and Rick, without turning around, continued.

"He was kidnapped while on a supply run. We were looking for formula for his baby sister. He got nabbed while we weren't looking. The car that man was driving belonged to us. He took that too."

This time, Oliver chose not to reply. He was too busy putting all of the puzzle pieces together in his head. The rest of the group also said nothing and they continued their journey in silence. 

Night fell shortly thereafter. The group, led by Rick, exited the woods shortly after the moon fully rose over the dark Georgia skies. Exiting the woods for the first time since his close call earlier, Oliver carefully took in his surroundings. Up ahead was a fairly impressive wall, constructed out of sheets of metal, train cars, and other defunct vehicles. Michonne had taken them around the back, where no guards were standing atop the walls, and that is where they huddled. That is also where the magnitude of the operation first hit the younger Oliver. In the past, he had fought off numerous roamers and been in situations where he was nearly certain he would die. The anxiety building in his stomach now was of a completely different kind. He had never faced humans before. He had certainly never put himself in danger for other survivors before either. This fear seemed to be stemming from all the new territory he found himself apart of now.

"What now?" he vocalized.

Rick was about to answer when a flicker of movement caught the man's attention. Michonne, eyes fixated into the distance, quickly darted off and faded away into the darkness, despite Rick's numerous hisses of protest. In the end, he was unable to stop her. She wouldn't come back. The leader cursed under his breath and then fixated his heated gaze on the last remaining newcomer in his rescue group: Oliver himself. The teen didn't dare move. Rick was testing him. He was seeing whether or not the teen would dart off on his own agenda, like the samurai had, rather than put the needs of the group first. When the boy, in fact, didn't move, Rick warily returned his focus to the redneck named Daryl and their other companion, Oscar.

"We need to downsize." he declared as he began passing around weapons to the other two.

"No way we're searchin' all them buildin's." Daryl said softly. "Not with all them guards around."

"I have an idea."

Three heads swiveled in Oliver's direction and none of them were inviting. The teen was carefully playing his cards at this point. Just watching the men prepare to infiltrate a town were they were vastly outnumbered spoke volumes to the boy. It spoke of their strength, but more importantly, it spoke of their unity. The target being Rick's son, it stood to reason that he would mount a rescue, but that others would follow truly showed how close the group was to one another. And all of that represented something he had not seen in a very long time. Unity. Camaraderie. Loyalty. More than anything, Oliver longed to feel these things for himself. He longed for a life where he was apart of something bigger than just surviving the roamers day to day. Despite having only followed them for a few hours, the teen saw that in Rick and his group. And he was willing to brave their initial distrust to sample that feeling he so desired.

"Listen to me," he continued. "The four of us sneaking in there isn't gonna be a walk in the park. Even if we do managed to get by those guys," he gestured towards the men stalking the walls in the distance. "we have no idea how many are patrolling the inside. So, let me. I'll slip in, scout out the area, and try to locate where your son is."

"Absolutely not." Rick snapped. "You're staying close. We don't know you."

"No, you don't." Oliver said, as he slipped his backpack off of his back and lightly set it down on the grass. "So take this as insurance. This bag has all of my supplies. Food, water, toiletries, first aid equipment---you name it, it's there. Now, listen. I'll slip in there and search for your son. If I find him, I'll send up a flare with this." He fumbled in the backpack's side pocket, retrieved a small orange flare gun, and sat it down in the grass next to the sack. "The flare will alert them, but it will also draw their attention away from the walls. This allows you guys to get in, get a secure position, and lay down a distraction in the form of cover fire. I'll double back, return here, send up another flare, and we'll be on our merry way to your camp."

The teen was slightly amused by the dumbfounded expressions he was met with.

Perhaps Rick and his crew didn't expect a teenager to be strategically inclined. Whatever the case, Rick immediately seemed conflicted. Oliver knew his plan was risky. Any plan they came up would be, but he was confident Rick would allow him to go through with his own. His plan minimized danger to Rick's people, something he knew Rick would value. To Rick, the teenage newcomer was a nobody. If something were to happen to him, Rick wouldn't lose anything and could continue to attempt his own rescue. On the other hand, if he succeeded, Rick will have gained his son back with minimal danger to Daryl and Oscar. Oliver watched Rick contemplate this. He knew the leader wasn't stupid. He was seeing these advantages just as Oliver had intended him to. Finally, the leader relented with a sharp nod.

"Alright, deal." Rick said.

"Okay, good." Oliver nodded. "Now, what am I looking for here?"

Rick launched into an abridged description of his son. Shaggy brunette hair, vibrant blue eyes, pale (sometimes freckled) skin, short, and scrawny. The leader also added that the boy usually wore a sheriff's hat, but that it had been knocked off during the kidnapping---that was how they knew he had been taken in the first place. Needless information, but information Oliver liked to have nevertheless. When Rick was done, Oliver checked his knife, pocketed his flare gun, and tossed on his faded navy jacket. He left his supplies with Rick as per their deal and then was off. Before he got too far, he stopped and tilted his head back in Rick's direction.

"What's his name?"

Rick raised an eyebrow.

"Just in case."

"His name is Carl."

"Carl," Oliver repeated, rolling the syllables over his tongue. 

It was an odd name, he had to admit. He found it amusing, but now was not the time to be laughing when there was serious work to be done. Nodding, he returned to the task at hand and walked away into the darkness.

The instant he was out of Rick's line of sight, he allowed his facade to fade. The tense expression, mixed with fear, that was meant to show Rick that he meant no harm, was instantly replaced with a more ruthless expression. His eyes seemed to glaze over as his face set in a serious expression. Ten months with the roamers had taught him everything he needed about being ruthless and expressionless. Still, his heart fluttered at the thought of becoming part of Rick's group. Maybe, he told himself, he could finally toss off his cold self and become who he once was if he were to join up with Rick. Oliver swiftly quashed that thought. 

_I can daydream later,_ he chastised himself.

Approaching a poorly lit portion of the wall, along the back of the community, Oliver surveyed the obstacle in his path. Getting around the wall would be the easy part. Instead, he focused his sight beyond the wall. The nearest building was the back of what was once a cafe. He skimmed its walls until he found what he was looking for. Metal glinted in the moonlight and Oliver found his sights locked onto a metal ladder that climbed the side of the building right up to the roof. Rooftops were advantageous. It would allow him to survey Woodbury, watch its patrol, and get a good bearing on his direction. 

_Ladder it is._

A moment later, he had slipped underneath the wall of Woodbury and begun his ascent up the metallic ladder. He slowed as he ascended, ensuring that none of the guards on the wall could see him from the distance, then continued to push his way upward until he was finally on the roof of the old cafe. Atop the Woodbury Cafe, Oliver could see the entire community. The town was lit by torches and candles, and the streets were empty save for a few small armed patrols. Curfew, the teen suspected. Oh well, all the better for him. Reaching behind his head, he drew up the hood of his jacket, draping it lightly around his face. In that same moment, a cold breeze blew across Georgia, which rustled the trees in the distance. Crouching low, so as not to be spotted, Oliver continued to scan Woodbury as he plotted his next move.

"Carl," he murmured the name again to himself. "Let's begin."

**Author's Note:**

> So, after seeing how much people liked my last CarlxMaleOC fic series, I decided to prepare a new one. Its been months in the making, but now here it is. 
> 
> This is the first "book" of a series I intend to write. This one, called "Darkness in Woodbury", is a Season 3 AU, which acknowledges everything up to Glenn and Maggie's abduction as canon. Instead, Carl gets abducted and the story flows from there. Depending on the success of this story, I will continue the series with a "book" containing a Season 4 story, so on and so forth. As long as the series continues, I will make an AU adaptation for this story. But it also depends on the stories' success. 
> 
> So how will I know? The answer to that is simple. If you like this story enough to want to see more of it, leave a Kudos, bookmark it if you want, and leave a comment. Comments tell me what you like and don't like (or, if you're really interested, tell me what you feel too). Kudos tell me you skimmed through and like it. Bookmarks tell me you plan to read it more than once. If I see these (I won't beg, promise), I'll know I'm doing good and the series will continue. If I don't, well, the answer is self-explanatory.
> 
> That being said, I DO hope you enjoy this fic. I wrote it for your enjoyment, after all ;) Updates will come at least once a week (more if I'm feeling productive or generous) until the story is complete.


End file.
